


Unclassifiable Cast-offs

by thisbluespirit



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: 500 prompts, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Ficlet, Gen, Humor, Serial: s051 Spearhead From Space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 20:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: UNIT needs a new scientific adviser, but she’s proving hard to win round to the idea of superheroes and villains.





	Unclassifiable Cast-offs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liadt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/gifts).

> Written for Liadtbunny in the [500 Prompts Meme](http://lost-spook.dreamwidth.org/291842.html): #296: Unclassifiable castoffs, misfits, marginal cases – Brigadier (DW).

“You can’t be serious,” said Dr Shaw. “You’re running some sort of superhero outfit? Men flying about in tights and capes? Is this some kind of prank?”

The Brigadier raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to stifle her amusement. He couldn’t entirely blame her for the scepticism – he’d been much the same until the truth had been forced upon him – but he did resent the implication that he didn’t have enough to do without running round playing elaborate April Fools’ jokes on eminent Cambridge scientists. 

“Not a prank,” he responded, “although I assure you that no one is obliged to wear capes.”

“But that’s impossible,” she said eventually.

The Brigadier leant forward. “Dr Shaw, I’m not in the habit of making jokes about issues of national security. As I explained, I need a scientific adviser precisely because we don’t fully understand the causes of these mutations. I have the Doctor, but brilliant as he is, he spends much of his time travelling to wherever the latest incident has taken place. I need someone –” The Brigadier gave a cough, reaching for words that were more tactful than _actually reliable, less arrogant, and less inclined to go running off to Brighton or Stow-on-the-Wold in the middle of the night_. “Someone who can spend a sensible amount of time in the lab analysing his samples – and providing medical care to some of our worst cases. I understand you do have a medical degree?”

“Yes. But nothing that covers the realms of fantasy.”

The Brigadier pressed the button on the intercom system. “Benton! In here now!”

“Sir!” said Sergeant Benton, hurrying in through the doorway. He saluted.

The Brigadier acknowledged him with a curt nod. “Make Dr Shaw a cup of coffee, will you? By means of a demonstration.”

“Demonstration?” said Liz, and then stared as the coffee pot floated in past the Sergeant followed by two cups and saucers. One of the cups made a safe landing on the desk, but the coffee pot wobbled dangerously, sloshing its contents over a pile paper while the second cup fell to the floor and smashed, along with both saucers.

Benton winced. “Sorry, sir. I’m still working on some of my control issues, you see. Shall I get that cleared up?”

“Leave it for the moment,” said the Brigadier. “Dismissed!” He returned his attention to Dr Shaw. “Was that sufficient to convince you?”

The amused gleam had not yet died out of Dr Shaw’s eyes. “With tricks like that, Brigadier, you could have a magic show on TV.”

“UNIT is a top secret organisation,” said the Brigadier in suitably repressive tones, though he might have permitted himself the ghost of a smile. “We have a much more serious purpose – to take in and train all of these, ahem, mutations we can find. In cases where they’ve gone rogue before we could get to them, we do our best to apprehend them. Your task will be to conduct research into why and how these things are happening. The Doctor has a theory about radiation leaks, but as I said, he’s been too busy rushing about finding these unfortunate people. That’s where you come in.”

Dr Shaw surveyed him, her amusement having faded away. “So, you want me to head up your research team –”

“At the moment, there is no team as such. It would be you and the Doctor.”

“Oh, wonderful,” said Liz. “And, of course, all this would have to be top secret so there’d be no opportunity to publish – and I somehow doubt the salary raise would be significant – would there even _be_ a raise? Well, thank you, Brigadier!”

The Brigadier straightened himself in his seat, and closed her file. “Dr Shaw. Your country needs you. The world even, perhaps, though I hate to sound melodramatic. What’s more, judging by your file, a woman of your qualifications must have a healthy sense of curiosity. Don’t you want to find out what’s causing these mutations? It _is_ a matter of life or death.”

Dr Shaw leant forward, about to speak, but then drew back, hesitating.

“It won’t be safe, of course,” the Brigadier said, “but I don’t believe you’ll regret taking it on.”

“I wasn’t aware I’d agreed,” said Dr Shaw, although with less acerbity in her tone than before.

Before the Brigadier could respond, the Doctor swept in through the room, his shoulder cape billowing out around him. 

“Brigadier!” he said, passing Dr Shaw without so much as a glance. “There you are. You’ll never guess who I discovered hiding out in Dover Castle!”

The Brigadier bit back a small sigh. “Don’t tell me – the Master?”

“Yes,” said the Doctor deflating. “You guessed?”

The Brigadier raised an eyebrow. “I’m not as dim as you seem to think, Doctor.” He looked past the Doctor, to Dr Shaw. “Well, Dr Shaw?”

Dr Shaw glanced from the Brigadier to the Doctor and back again. She couldn’t entirely bite back another laugh. “And I thought you said capes weren’t obligatory!”


End file.
